


teeth

by pseudocitrus



Category: Chainsaw Man (Manga)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: What she told him to do was “memorize it,” but the reality, really, was that there was no way he could forget it.





	teeth

**Author's Note:**

> makima......///////////////////
> 
> written after chapter 12 ///

What she told him to do was “memorize it,” but the reality, really, was that there was no way he could forget it:

The gleam of her eyes, piercing; and then the glitter of her teeth, pinching. For a moment the tip of her tongue pressed ever so slightly against the pad of his finger, hot and wet and tender as an open wound, and whether it really happened or not he can’t forget it, even though probably it didn’t actually happen because something else he remembers is the incredible succinct pressure of her teeth meeting through his skin, splitting bone and clicking down to his very marrow, but no matter how many times he checks there’s no mark left behind on him, no evidence, not even a pale line to designate where she’d been.

_“Memorize it.”_

His heart roared so fast he thought it would bust out of him, he gripped his shirt just to feel the impression of the cord against his knuckles, just to assure himself it was there and hadn’t been pulled, and it wasn’t, but the triangle bit at the cord’s end felt like it was rattling against his sternum, like all the motors had started up but were snagged on the tiny pretty dent already fading on his finger. for a second — when she leaned in there at the end — he thought — she might — bite him there too — on his quivering lip — his knotted tongue.

And for a moment he had a heated instinct to just reach — and —  _pull_ —

Makima’s lips moving, slow, plush.  _“Memorize it.”_

So he would know her even if he couldn’t see. But every time his eyes shut, that tiny bite spreads; it nibbles, not just on the joint of every finger, but the line of each palm, and every wrinkle on his kneecaps, and the shivery divot of his navel, and his furiously bobbing Adam’s apple, and the chewy crooks of his red ears. He grips the cord again, startled and relieved to find the revving still just in his ribcage. He sighs and closes his eyes, and he feels her yank him again, and set her teeth on him.


End file.
